


When You Die

by Space_gays_that_arent_in_space



Series: It Sounds Just Like Falling In Love [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society (Homestuck), Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Background Kurloz Makara, Background Mituna Captor/Kurloz Makara, Breaking Up & Making Up, Bulges (Homestuck), Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Chucklevoodoos, Cult of the Mirthful Messiahs, Feelings Jams, Feelings Realization, Good Moirail Gamzee Makara, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's Not Really Cheating Though I Swear, Karkat Hates Himself, Karkat Swearing, M/M, Minor Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Mituna Captor/Kurloz Makara Moirallegiance, Nook Fingering (Homestuck), Nook Worship (Homestuck), POV Gamzee Makara, POV Second Person, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Purring Trolls (Homestuck), Sad Karkat, Second Chances, Sibling Bonding, Tentacle Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:49:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_gays_that_arent_in_space/pseuds/Space_gays_that_arent_in_space
Summary: ”I’m so...motherfucking sorry...I shouldn’t have gotten all up in your shit like that. It wasn’t right of me,”You will never, not ever, feel guilty for what you did to the motherfucker, not when you think of the things he said, you can feel guilty for upsetting Karkat though, that’s not hard in the slightest. He holds you tighter still.You continue, “Karbro, you’re the strongest motherfucker I know and I never want you to think that your miraculous ass is anything but strong to me,”Karkat is crying harder now, but he pulls away from you and finally you see his face properly. It’s all puffy and covered in tears and he’s still beautiful. Hell, he may be even more beautiful than the very last time you saw him because you see none of that hate that was there before. The only thing in his ganderbulbs are love and sorrow and you want to kiss all that motherfucking sorrow out of him. Only three days apart and you realize how very much Karkat means to you, of course you thought you knew before, you thought that you understood how much pity you had stored up for him in your soul, but it turns out that there’s even more than you expected.
Relationships: Dave Strider & Karkat Vantas, Gamzee Makara & Karkat Vantas, Gamzee Makara/Karkat Vantas
Series: It Sounds Just Like Falling In Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987501
Comments: 11
Kudos: 27





	When You Die

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to the first part but really all it is is from Gamzee's perspective of the same period of time. You don't need to read the first part but I would be happy if you did !!

Never in your motherfucking life have you loved anyone more than you love Karkat Vantas. He is your everything, your moons, your stars, your sopor. He gives meaning to just about every single thing you do, and now he’s angry with you. More angry than he’s ever been, really. It’s your motherfucking fault, and you motherfucking know this, but watching the rage spill forth from him like an infuriated volcano sends something through your pan that is far from miraculous. You’re watching Karbro step around glass, trying to pace back and forth despite it. He’s so angry with you, so infuriated that even the messiah himself could not quell the holy rage coming from him. This rage is not unfamiliar, you know it well as you know the rage that lies dormant, deep and dark in the recesses of your mind, but this is the first time that it has _truly_ been turned upon you. He’s seething, hands trembling and face getting close to red as his horns. 

”Get the fuck out of my apartment you stupid, sopor obsessed fucking rotted pan having clown. I don’t wanna see you for the rest of the night, fuck I may never wanna see you again if you keep up with your idiotic, migraine inducing bullshit! You know what? We’re over! Fuck! Just, get the fuck out Gamzee, I can’t-I can’t look at you right now” 

Karbro is infuriated with you in the most sinful of ways. It makes your pusher ache so bad that you don’t know what to do save for raising your hands in defeat and lowering your head. It’s a sign of surrender, exposing your neck so that he might take mercy on your motherfucking soul, a sign that if he truly wanted he could motherfucking decapitate you and it would be all a-okay with you. He’s already smashed his favorite cup to the ground, leaving it littered in tiny little pieces all around his and your feet on the motherfucking ground. What you did was wrong, a motherfucker most definitely understands that, but nothing would be able to prepare you for all the motherfucking pain you’re in, watching your matesprit get this upset. 

You back out slowly, throwing on your slippers before you head out. You wonder how he’s going to get to work without the help of your miraculous little van, or if you’ll have to sleep there till your beloved little matesprit is no longer angry with you. You pray that this break up is something temporary, that this ache in your chest will be just as temporary as this breakup, that this break up will be nothing but a most unfunny joke in your memory soon enough but you can’t be sure. 

You cannot be sure until you can see your beloved little miracle’s face and tell him how utterly flushed you are for him. Now is not that time though, it cannot be that time. You make sure to grab the keys to your extra large scuttlebug before you do and just barely miss one of your very own motherfucking pieces of clothing from your shared respite block being thrown at you. 

You lean against the door and listen to the way that Karkat seems to break, like he’s been wounded, and you know that you have wounded him, even if this grand sin of yours took place long enough ago that it does not matter to you. You know that Karkat’s life is shorter than yours, time means more to him than it ever could to you, not when you have so motherfucking much of the stuff. 

You settle yourself inside, going right down to your vehicle and getting into the drivers seat. It smells like Karkat in here, all sugar and spice and rage and hot coffee. It makes you ache all motherfucking over again. You ache deep in your thorax because you, in a moment of stark self awareness, have to wonder if this will really be the end. You try to imagine a life without him, without his kisses and his miraculous voice and his stubby little horns that rest beside your face perfectly, it is a motherfucking impossibility. A life without your Karbro is something sinful, unmiraculous as it is mirthless. It is a life not worth even the slightest bit of attention from even the holiest of rydas. 

Even still, you know that you cannot go back, not for now, not until you can tell him how much he means to your motherfucking soul, so you drive. You wander aimlessly for a long time, breathing in the tallness of the city around you. It’s always so beautiful, fairy dust scattered in the sky making those miraculous motherfucking stars, and the people on the streets, unknowing of how lucky they are to live in such a mirthful motherfucking world. All of it is so beautiful it almost makes you want to shed a few tears from your ganderbulbs, but you don’t. Those tears would not be honest to the motherfucking beauty that surrounds you, they are tears owned by something-someone far more important. It is with those thoughts wiggling around in your pan that you think to head all up over to the most sacred of holy lands, your dearest motherfucking brother’s hive. 

Kurloz lives out in the middle of nowhere, for the sake of his holy mission. He needs his focus, besides, the city bothers Tuna and there is nothing he likes less. He is as devoted to his matesprit as you are yours, utterly focused on indulging him to the best of his abilities. Of course, he uses far more of his influence than you could ever think to. 

When your scuttlebug appears before his hive, you feel a sense of warmth almost knock the ache out of your chest, but only almost so. There are brambles and thickets wrapping themselves all up in your insides, it is a punishment, harsh and painful for the likes of a piece of subjuggulating shit like you. You practically white knuckle the steering device of your vehicle, pressing your forehead to it. Tears pour from your ganderbulbs, motherfuckers rushing from them like they’ve been given chance to escape, and you suppose that they have. They’ve needed escape since you noticed how real Karbro’s anger was. 

His rage reminded you of the church, of your grubhood in front of all of the other subjuggulators, of your trials for the sake of the messiah. All of it came flooding back to you and you ached to have the old Karbro back. Ached to see his softer side, watch him go back to being soft and sweet as sopor. 

A thought strikes you over the head, hard and violent as the glass that struck the ground back at your apartment. 

_It was your fault though, motherfucker_. 

You know that it was, know better than anyone that it was your fault. You were the one who nearly destroyed that blue blood, almost gave in to those urges that lie so primal and deep within you that you practically forget they’re there sometimes. You nearly killed him, all because he’d laid a hand on your Karbro. He had said he didn’t need the help, that it didn’t matter what he said or how he grabbed him because he could handle himself, but you hadn’t listened. Now, here you are, crying all up in your brother’s driveway. 

That’s how Kurloz finds you, greasepaint on your face running all over the motherfucking place and tears in your eyes. He frowns best he can with the stitches, and coaxes you out of the car. 

**My dearest motherfuckin invertebrother, what has caused you such intense motherfuckin pain all up in that pusher of yours?**

You sniff, staring at your brother with such sorrow that you’re surprised his miraculous motherfucking chucklevoodoos can’t see for himself. You pull it together despite the fact, or maybe because of it. You aren’t very sure. 

”Karbro and I got into a motherfucking fight, it was most sinful, makin’ a motherfucker’s pusher all up and ache and all that noise.” You croak 

Kurloz pulls you into a most pitiful hug and it is the greatest miracle you have experienced today. You slump into his arms, letting his prongs comb through your hair, his hand never gets stuck and you’re never quite sure how, but you love the sensation. In the back of your throat you manage the weakest of purrs, but still, it is a gratitude nonetheless. He takes you inside, the place is practically a little motherfucking church in and of itself, clown memorabilia mixed with the holiest of church items mixed together in what you can only call the most miraculous of places you have ever been. You love brother Kurloz’s house, truly, and had he not sent you off when your lusus went to sea for the very last time, you likely would still live here. It’s strange to imagine, to think that you would not be where you are with Karkat if not for your brother sending you out of the house for the final time that day. You had been so young then, practically a wriggler, and fresh out of your final pupation for many sweeps. You wonder if Karkat will be able to see you through that one, you hope so, or at least, you do until you remember the predicament you are in, and then your pusher aches with renewed sorrow. 

Kurloz takes you up to your old room, it’s the same as when you were there, save for the lack of horns (now at Karkat’s), your miraculous single wheel device (also at motherfucking Karkat’s), and your copies of troll Playboy that you had hidden beneath your recuperacoon (lost in a game of blackjack at a sex shop very early on in your travels). It feels nice to be home, at least, nice as it can be when you’re sure that your starfire never wants to see a motherfucker’s face again. 

**I will return soon, my most divine of motherfucking brothers. Just wanna go get some things for this impromptu motherfuckin’ horns for this feelings jam we’re about to get all started. Then, we will partake in the most pious of motherfuckin noises, quietly so as to not disturb Tuna, of course**

You nod, though do not look at Kurloz, instead, you focus on the way that nothing at all has seemed to change in all the time that you haven’t been here. You feel almost like you’re back in the caverns, so small and so young. There is something primal there that makes you chirr quietly, a small motherfuckin miracle. 

You sit down and wait for Kurloz, watching as he loads in a pile of horns and a few single wheel devices. When you climb atop it, the horns dig into all the right places, and you feel some of the tenseness you’ve been carrying around with you being released. Kurloz lays down right beside you, watching, waiting. He wants you to speak at your own pace, without his urging. You wonder if this is what he does with Tunabro, if he waits for him to get all those motherfucking paint splatter thoughts from out his thinkpan before he has the chance to say anything real to Kurloz. You open your mouth, then close it, then open it once more. You decide that you’ll tell him the whole motherfucking story. 

”Well, a couple days ago, Karbro and I were walking on the most miraculous of motherfucking dates, and this blue blooded motherfucker comes up to him, giving him a hard time and all that mirthless noise. Karbro gets all up in the middle of it as the motherfucker is prone to do, but a motherfucker wanted to take things into his hands, especially when he realized his matesprit was in real motherfuckin danger…..so I knocked some mirth into the motherfucker, chucklevoodoos and all. Now, Karbro is all up and pissed with me...and....and a motherfucker doesn’t know what to do…” 

Kurloz rubs your head again, making sure to stop right at the base of your neck and scratch. You relax a little bit more, and before you realize it tears are spilling right back down your face, and so soon after you had stopped. You look up at Kurloz, hoping for some sort of sage wisdom out of him, he always has it and now is when you need it the motherfucking most. 

**I hate to say it, but you most definitely did lose grasp upon yourself there. Even still, it ain’t wrong to wanna protect the motherfucker closest in your bitchin’ heart. If anything, it is the second most important thing in life. You gotta protect the motherfuckers who cannot protect themselves, thy most flush of motherfuckers is the type and so is yours.**

”That was what I was tryna tell the motherfucker, but he just kept on insisting that he didn’t need me all up in his motherfuckin business” 

**That is bound to happen. Tuna is the same fuckin’ way, always insisting he don’t need any of my divine help when he does. That’s why, sometimes, one must let their most flush or pale of motherfuckers learn for themselves. They will call upon thou’s most divine of motherfucking strengths if they need to**

You nod, drinking up the motherfucker’s words like they’ve come forth from a spring. Of course, it isn’t fair of you to treat Karkat as delicate as you see him, not when you love him oh so fucking much because of his strength. You miss him more and more each moment you don’t see him, and you can’t help but hope he misses you just as much. 

You spend your time in worship, pleading with the messiah himself that you do not lose this one thing that means so much to you. Karkat is your calm, your freedom, you motherfucking peace, and losing him would mean losing all of those things. You are devoted to all that is motherfucking mirthful, you always will be, but this pain, this loss, it is worse than the rage that lies bubbling beneath your skin. It claws at you, waiting to burst out, and you know that when it does make its mirthless escape from you, it will lead to nothing but a world that is so motherfucking colorless you’ll have to learn how to see them with your tongue just like Terezi does. 

You stay away for as long as you can, all curled up in the horn pile when Kurloz isn’t using it with Mituna, it’s sad to watch them, hurts you in a way that you could not expect to be hurt. Of course they act just as matesprits would, it wouldn’t make any sort of motherfucking sense if they didn't, but god does it hurt to think about how that had just been you, horns and all. You stay away from Karbro for three days, then you load all up into your motherfucking van to head home. 

It has only been three days, but it being the same time of night as when you left makes something inside of you twist. You’ll leave if he wants you gone, that’s what you tell yourself. If Karbro wants you gone that motherfucking badly then you’ll go. You’ll go back to a life without him, following the flow of the wind like a leaf. Wherever the new miracles call upon you you will follow, and try your damndest to not remember what you so tragically left behind. You try not to think of his expression, you focus on this longing, like a disease spreading throughout your body, ready to make all your teeth fall out, make your tongue flop onto the ground like a dead cuttlefish, or maybe even like your very brother’s tongue way back when. 

You climb the many stairs until you get to the apartment, you feel time slow in a way that you do not often experience, at least, not like this. Time is like jelly always, all floppy and gooey and ready to get all smashed up on to an eternal piece of toast and smeared around, time is slow always for you, save for when you’re around Kurloz, because everyone else is so motherfucking quick. This though, this is slower than you are used to, everything feels like that moment in movies, the world is about to stop. Suddenly, you’re in front of your apartment, and with trembling hands you pull your keys into your hand and unlock the door, swinging it wide open. If Karbro wants to kill you for showing up again then that’s the price you’ll pay. You hear a squeak, all low and motherfucking pained, and then you feel a force ram right all the motherfuck up against your body. He’s hugging you, all of the sudden your arms are full of Karkat and he’s holding you tighter than anything. You raise your arms and throw them right back around him. Fuck, you missed him. It’s been four days and you missed him so much. The ache finally, finally subsides, and you feel like crying. Shit. You love this miracle right here so motherfucking dearly, you are, in all it’s mirthful glory, flushed for him. 

You stay like that for a long time, clinging to each other like wigglers and possibly crying. You know for a fact that Karkat is crying, you can feel how his tears seep all up into the fabric of your shirt. You don’t mind though, you rub his back and press tiny little kisses all around the base of his horns, purring real motherfucking loud for him. 

He’s the one with the idea to have a feelings jam, and it makes you warm that he would. He really wants to talk things out, really wants to tell the truth, and maybe, hopefully, take a motherfucking nap together. You get all snuggled up into the horn pile, caressing his head and his horns and giving him pale little kisses, you were moirails before you were matesprits after all, and what is a little bit of quadrant vacillation for your Karbro? He cuddles against you, face still pressed crushingly close into your thorax, you like it though. You like how he is so burning hot that you feel like you might just all up and melt away. 

”I’m so...motherfucking sorry...I shouldn’t have gotten all up in your shit like that. It wasn’t right of me,” 

You will never, not ever, feel guilty for what you did to the motherfucker, not when you think of the things he said, you can feel guilty for upsetting Karkat though, that’s not hard in the slightest. He holds you tighter still. 

You continue, “Karbro, you’re the strongest motherfucker I know and I never want you to think that your miraculous ass is anything but strong to me,” 

Karkat is crying harder now, but he pulls away from you and finally you see his face properly. It’s all puffy and covered in tears and he’s still beautiful. Hell, he may be even more beautiful than the very last time you saw him because you see none of that hate that was there before. The only thing in his ganderbulbs are love and sorrow and you want to kiss all that motherfucking sorrow out of him. You give him one firm kiss on his mouth before he talks, just so that you know you can, and he pulls you all up close when you do. Only in that kiss is there the love you’ve missed. Only three days apart and you realize how very much Karkat means to you, of course you thought you knew before, you thought that you understood how much pity you had stored up for him in your soul, but it turns out that there’s even more than you expected. 

”Gamzee,” Karkat’s voice is trembling 

”What’s up, my divinest of miracles” 

”I’m sorry too, I overreacted...I didn’t actually wanna break up. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for being such an idiot! God, I don’t deserve you-” 

You kiss him again. 

”I will not let my flush motherfucker talk about himself all hateful ‘n shit. It ain’t right, not when I have so much of this pity to give him.” 

Karkat looks about ready to cry again, or maybe cry more, as he never did really stop. He initiates the next kiss, pulling you on top of him and clinging tight against your body. His tears seem never ending, and the sight of them makes you warm. They’re so beautiful, that shade of red, the red that fills his eyes and beats under his skin so burning hot and bright. You want to eat him, you want to paint all up over everything with that color, you know how it would be your favorite to use, but you could not sacrifice him like that. No matter how pretty the color that runs through his veins, there is something in his soul that is even more gorgeous, even brighter. He is better than his blood, more valuable and rare. 

He pulls you close, wrapping his legs around you. He’s purring right into your mouth, and you feel yourself melt. 

His tongue is hot and warm and perfect in your mouth and when he whimpers you feel your bulge stir. You don’t mean for things to get like this, a motherfucker really doesn’t, but Karkat is too much. He always has been. Every little noise and shift of his body makes you want to ravish him, and if you can not eat him in the traditional sense, you will eat him this way. You force your tongue further into his mouth, getting all pressed up against him for the sake of informing him, letting him know what he does to you, how he drives you so very motherfucking wild. It makes him whimper again, and before you know it your ripping and pulling at his clothes. That’s when you notice it, he’s wearing _your clothes_. Your pants and the very same shirt that he threw at you before you left. You feel tears prickling at your eyes again, and when you look down Karkat is blushing furiously. You press a kiss to his forehead and he chitters for you, lacking even the slightest of inhibitions. Your pusher goes warm and you descend upon him once more. 

Fuck your pants. 

Fuck your shirt. 

Fuck everything that isn’t the tiny motherfucking starfire below you. 

He lets out a little ‘mmf’ when you kiss him again, shocked and surprised and happy. He’s exposed to the open air and seems fine with it, his bulge already wiggling in the free air as it is meant to be, that candy red dripping down on to one of the horns below, wheezy little honks being let out as Karkat shifts, allowing you the chance to get your pants around your knees. You nook is already wet for him and your bulge, practically twice the size in length as his, is wrapping around his just as soon as it’s out. You groan, feeling the way you slide against each other, little bursts of stars hitting you. You let your prongs slide further downward, toying with the lips of his nook and spreading him wide open. Of course, he’ll accommodate for your size, it’s what nooks are meant to do, but you like to watch his face. He gasps into your mouth when you slide the first finger in, like it’s a shock, like he would never expect a motherfucker to simply slide into his nook. You smile. 

”Flush for you, Karbro” 

Karkat sighs into your mouth, “Flush for you too” 

You grin and pump your finger once. He clamps down on you already. Fuck, he’s so good, he’s so good and you love him and you want to be inside of him right the motherfuck now. Instead though, you hold yourself back, you slide in a second finger and feel him writhe. Fuck. Your bulge is wrapped up around him, you can just barely see his under it. He’s so hot, burning you up, you want him inside of you, you want to be inside of him, you want to become one with him. All of it means so much to you, all of him and all of you and both of you together. You need him. 

You pump your fingers a little faster and he squeals, you ache for him all deep down inside of your motherfucking soul. You fuck him like that for a long while, bulge around bulge, fingers in his nook, watching as he stares up at you with nothing but affection. You want things to be like this forever. He clamps down on you again, this time there’s far more to get all motherfucking tight around, making the noises he makes louder. 

You pump your fingers a few times and listen to the little moans and cries he makes, they are gospel to your mirthful motherfucking ears. 

You’re both leaking slurry all over the place, and when you pull your fingers from him he looks about ready to cry. You look at the red that covers your fingers, it practically glimmers in the light of the apartment. You can hear Karkat’s pants, he’s watching you. If you cannot eat him in the traditional way, then you’ll eat him like this, and you do. You take your fingers into your mouth and suck, savoring the taste of him despite the flavor. You pull your bulge from his and he lets out a pained noise. It makes you grin down at the motherfucker. 

”Don’t worry your lovely little head Karbro, it won’t be too long before I’ve got you all up where I want you.” 

Karkat just nods, spreading his legs a little wider for you. You manage to angle your bulge toward Karkat’s nook, the heat calling to you like a motherfucking siren’s song. You sink into him slowly, inch after inch of that tight motherfucking heat clenching pulsating around you. Fuck, he feels so fucking good. He always feels this good. You could never fuck anyone else again, even if you and Karkat had to break up, because you know that they’d never feel like _this_. You hiss out a moan, hands grabbing on to his precious waist. It’s on that waist that you notice marks, tiny little bruises that fit with fingers, and on his neck there are marks that you did not put. You squint down at Karkat, looking at his body, tiny little marks all over his thighs, once more like fingers. You feel that divine motherfucking rage uncurl a little bit. 

Karkat went off and fucked a motherfucker. He fucked someone else while you were broken up, and it is all you can do to hope that it was nothing short of black, or at the very least the most pale of pales. It is your burden, your price to pay for the way that you hurt him. This is nothing compared to the pain you’ve carried around with you for the past several days, you know that at the very least. 

You inch your bulge into him a little bit more and he arches his back. You can’t help but wonder if he gave whoever else the same sort of reaction, or if these are just for you. You hope they are, you hope that Karkat does these things just for your sinful motherfucking self. 

You kiss him again, gentler this time. He kisses you back, though it is more open mouthed than you had aimed for, he’s still letting out his little purrs for you. You sink in a little bit further and he makes a strained noise. You try to coax him, press kisses all up by his horns to try and calm him down. It is really, only when you let your tongue lave over his horns, and he lets out the most miraculous of motherfucking cries, that you’re able to hit the base. You feel so motherfucking good with his twitching insides all up around you. 

You growl out a little “Motherfuck” as you feel him rutting up against you. 

He cries out your name and you realize your bulge has already hit his seedflap. His arms wrap all up around you and press you close to him. You feel part of that little rage quell inside of you. He loves you, you know that he loves you no matter what motherfucker had the chance to get inside of this perfect volcanic valley he houses right between his motherfucking thighs. He wraps his legs around you, holding you close to him, your nook aches to be filled and you can see the way his bulge aches to fill. You pull out of him slowly, only so that you can sink into him once more, he chirrs and takes his teeth to your throat. You want him to bite you, you want him to take those blunt fangs of his and rip your throat out as painfully as he can. You long to watch the purple of your blood spill on to his face. You fuck up into him with more fervency, watching the way his face twists and how the noises he makes are only accentuated by the little honks of the horns beneath you. 

It’s not long before you feel him spill, though not at all with as much as he usually does, not when your bulge is plugging him up so deep. It seems to make his pailing all the more poignant, like the inability to let out all of his slurry as he usually does makes him feel it in every part of his body. You love the way his eyes roll back into his skull, the way that his bulge practically begs you for the same release, and it is with that smell of slurry and sex and sweat in the air that you spill inside of him, plugging your very own purple right up inside of him. 

You pull out slowly, watching the way that Karkat trembles below you. Your nook still needs filling, but that can wait. Instead, you take your hand and let his bulge rub all the motherfuck over you. He leaks his red everywhere, all over your hand and on to his stomach and on to the horns below. He’s desperate and aching and overwhelmed. He’s beautiful and perfect and his heat is making the only thing keeping your bulge from sliding back into its sheath. 

You feel yourself leaking all down your motherfucking thighs and when you give his bulge that final, teasing touch, he spills all over you, nook clamping down once more on your bulge that is once again wiggling like a live wire. You smile down at him, as he cries, throwing his head back in motherfucking ecstasy. You know that Karkat doesn’t believe in miracles, but at the very least you hope that he can see the miraculousness of the chemistry your bodies share. 

You slide out of him slowly, watching as his red mixes with your purple and leaks out of him, his bulge is just barely alive, but your nook is still sopping wet and aching and you want him deep inside of you. You take his bulge and slide it inside of you, below you Karkat lets out a sound, he’s getting overwhelmed, and there is red leaking from his mouth and from his eyes. He’s overwhelmed and overstimulated and beautiful for it. You caress his hair from his face pushing it from being sweat stuck against his forehead. His bulge just barely has the energy for you, but when you sink down you see the way that Karkat’s eyes shoot open. You rub his grub scars and feel him twitch beneath your skin. He is a miracle, a star, hot and perfect and he is your everything. It doesn’t matter what motherfucker touched him in those days you were not together, for you can love no other with this intensity. 

You ride him slowly, watching as he just barely keeps his eyes open for you, listening to his cries as drool spills down his chin. He whines against you, “much, too much” and all you can do is smile. 

You whisper sweet nothings into his ear, promises of being better and staying together forever. You’ll spill soon, you can feel it, there isn’t much left for you, not when he’s hot and full inside of you. You love him. You love him. You love him. You love him. You take your bulge and fuck into your hand until you’re clenching all up around Karkat and letting loose against him. You tremble, clenching and unclenching until both your bulges end up back in their sheaths. The horn pile is soaked in your fluids, it doesn’t matter though, you can always spray them off. You scoop up Karkat and carry him on weak legs to the ablution block. He’s practically asleep already, that last orgasm just too much for him. He looks so sweet, grubfat on his cheeks, face tingling red right beneath the skin, the fire that lies beneath. You press one last kiss to his slack lips and wipe yourselves off. You feel whole, complete in your knowledge that the two of you will last even the coming of the messiah. The day that the angel of double death comes, the day that you are meant to see the world end, you hope that you’ll be able to hold his hand one last time. 

Things are normal after that, you and Karkat are as motherfucking perfect as ever and it fills you with such a sense of joy that you practically feel like you’re high off of sopor always, even when you find yourself waning and using the human substitute. 

You’re dropping him off at work today, and it is then you see him and his little human counterpart. Something deep in your belly tells you to go inside, like it’s the most important thing you will ever do. That little voice in the back of your head chants so motherfucking loud that you cannot ignore it, and when you enter you feel something straining like it’s about to snap. 

You see Karkat’s friend, his dear sweet little human companion who works with him, Karkat has his back to you, he’s looking at the motherfucker. You grin, though you do not feel any sense of motherfucking joy in this moment. 

”What is up, my invertebrother, and my very near and dear motherfuckin matesprit Karbro?" 

Humans are mostly immune to the divine motherfucking gift that is chucklevoodoos. They hold none of their same power, but you do find something, deep in the pits of the motherfuckers mind. You find a sense of affection too large, too potent, and it is then you know exactly the motherfucker that fucked your matesprit. You want to kill him, rip his puny motherfucking skull right from his body, but you don’t, instead you order your mother fucking 6” cold cut combo and leave. You trust Karkat with your life, so what is trusting him to not go back to that motherfucker sitting right in front of you?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi kudos, comments, etc are greatly appreciated and there is a 99% chance that if you comment I'll reply.
> 
> @tamyura_on twt  
> @porcelain_babies on insta


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